


Musings

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Ramblings of a flu ridden mind attempting Mary Sue fic for Mockery's January challenge. Apologies in advance. Sorry Mock, it's all I could come up with at short notice! Grovel, grovel..... Alex made me do it :o)
Collections: TER/MA





	Musings

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> TER/MA January 2000 Challenge. This month I am going to do what I vowed I would never do. I am actually encouraging authors to write a Mary Sue piece. This means I want the author to create a character which is a portrayal of themselves in the story. It doesn't have to be an accurate portrayal, just a character that represents some part of yourself that interacts with the boys. Often this gets done by accident in stories, so I am sure that we can do it on purpose. —Rowanne

  


**Musings  
by Ruric**

  
The stunning, slender red head walked into the bar, her catlike grace drawing the attention of the men sitting round the small wooden tables and in the half shadowed booths.

Her green eyes swept the small room, and as she looked over each of them, the men became silent, conversations stuttering to a halt, as all attention focused on her.

"I'm looking for... someone... and I wondered whether you.... gentlemen.... could help me."

The low contralto voice sounded dangerous, like some rapacious predator that lurks in the long grass, visible only by the twitching of its ears until something young, tender and innocent wanders by. Her clear diction emphasised she certainly didn't consider the assembled men to be gentlemen in _any_ sense of the word and that she was attempting to be polite in using the verb help. The clear threat hung in the air that if said help were not forthcoming instantaneously, then someone (very possibly several someone's) would suffer, long and painfully. 

* * *

I rested my elbows on the table and glowered at the computer screen before putting my hands over my eyes and peering through my fingers at the text glowing lightly on the screen. I couldn't hold back a pathetic moan when I re-read the paragraphs.

"I can't do this. Dammit. I. Just. Can't. Do. This."

There was a soft thumping sound, of a heavy tail hitting the floor, and the pressure of something warm against my leg. The scent of meat leaden breath unfortunately gave away the identity of the culprit. I looked down into the soulful brown eyes of my dog. He seemed to be looking back with an inordinate amount of sympathy. Well, why the hell not, he'd seen me engaged in writing frenzies before. All the animals knew when to tread quietly around me.

I patted him absentmindedly, playing with his soft, silky ears, whilst re-reading the text. 

"Dear God... just _how_ did I get myself into this one?"

He looked back at me, blinking slowly, then wagged his tail a few more times sending the pile of papers by my desk skating gracefully across the polished wooden floor . Unfortunately, that wasn't all that was disturbed by the draft produced by sympathetic tail wagging. 

"Guess it'll be time to clean up again soon then....." I muttered as I watched hideous fanged dust bunnies of a truly awe inspiring size delurk from underneath the desk to chase the papers, notes and half finished stories across the floor.

"It's first sign of madness, you know, talking to yourself."

The voice was husky, low and dangerous, almost a liquid caress.

Oh great. 

I turned around to see a figure leaning in the doorway, masked by shadows. Mental note. I really need to get that central light fixed. Candles and spotlights can be atmospheric, but sometimes you just _need_ to see the whole room. Helps you to avoid nasty surprises. I turned back to the computer affecting nonchalance. Maybe he'd just go away and leave me in peace to finish this. Oh yeah, right, and isn't that a flying pig just passing by my window?

"Well, so good of you to show up. I don't suppose you've any bright ideas about how I could tackle this one, do you?" I gestured at the screen as my shoulders slumped in defeat. "And, if you must know, I wasn't talking to myself, I was talking to Iroko."

I patted the dog's head again and heard the reassuring thump of his tail against the floor. Peripherally I was aware of more dust bunnies emerging from their hiding places.

"Ah.... um.... do you often have conversations with the dog?"

"You should know, you eavesdrop often enough. Dogs, cats, whatever. They're a handy audience for bouncing plot ideas off, and they don't answer back with snide comments. And at least they're _real_. I hate to remind you, but you're not!"

"Am too. Well as real as I need to be." Alex surveyed the progress of the dust bunnies. "This place is a complete pit!"

"Don't bitch about my housekeeping. It's not polite. Besides writing is much more fun than dusting."

A rustle of fabric, soft footfalls and I was aware of someone standing close behind me reading the first few lines of text which shimmered on the computer screen.

One... two... three....

Muffled snickering interrupted my mental count.

" _What_ are you writing?"

I should give him his dues. He did try not to laugh out loud. I twisted around in my seat so I could see him properly. Laughter lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and his lips twitched with suppressed mirth. I sighed, struggling to sublimate the urge to hit something (very hard) and tried to sound reasonable.

"It's for the January challenge. I told you about it. Remember? Mary Sue fic?"

"I see..." he paused for a moment and I saw his eyes flick over the screen, re-reading what was there. "So you've decided to go the bad fic route then?"

I shifted back around. Stared hard at the screen. Counted to ten. Took a deep breath and counted to ten again. It's no good hitting him. He's not there. You try and hit him and your fist will just end up smashing into the filing cabinet. Bruised or broken knuckles would be the only result. You can't hit a phantom of your imagination. Get a grip!

"I haven't decided anything yet. I don't think I'm going to do it."

Silence greeted my pronouncement. 

An _ominous_ silence.

"What? Come on Alex, spit it out."

"I... um... I really don't think opting out is a good idea."

"And why would that be, Alex?"

"It's _Mockery's_ challenge remember? You were in on the hatching of this one. How's it going to look if you don't submit something?"

"Oh Alex, come on! You don't believe he'd get his nose all bent out of shape just because I don't wanna play at this?"

Alex leaned forward, right into my field of vision. One perfect eyebrow raised a couple of inches. His expression said it all.

"No, Alex... he wouldn't..."

"Are you _so_ sure of that? You're going to Escapade together remember? Do you really want to run the risk of a twelve hour flight of frigid silence and oh so lethal glances followed by six days of vicious verbal sparring. Three of which, I feel honour bound to remind you, will be in front of a rather large audience including a lot of Ter/ma list sibs."

"Uhhh... right. I get the point. So are you going to help me with this or what?"

"What's the problem?"

"Alex. It's MARY SUE fic!" I was beginning to sound just a little tetchy.

"So?"

"Mary Sue fic. You know the principle. Author writes self into story so obviously that all the readers know the character isn't really an original character it's the author in another guise."

"Yes. I am acquainted with the concept. What's the problem?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious."

"Humour me."

"Well, it's.... it's.... hrghmphpmg."

"Stop mumbling. Spell it out for me. I didn't hear you. It's what?"

"It's... it's... it's... HET FIC!" A slow blush stained my cheeks and I stared hard at the screen. If he laughed at me now, real or not, I was going to hit him.

Instead silence greeted the announcement.

"Oh! Oh, I _see_."

I peered up at him. Good God. Was Alex Krycek blushing?

"So what am I going to do, Alex? I'm hip deep in trouble if I don't send something to the list, and I really, really _can't_..." I shuddered in despair, "... no I _won't_ write het fic."

A comforting hand rested on my shoulder, warmth seeping through the t- shirt I wore, then his fingers tightened.

"Hey! I got an idea!"

"What?"

"Send what you've got..."

"But..."

"Shut up and let me finish. Send what you've got. You've still got that other piece on the back burner—right? The bit the Muldermuse gave you?"

"Yeah, but it's not..."

"Shush. You know he wants to have a look at that, and he could probably give you some ideas of where to go with it next."

"Um... probably straight into the bin."

"Don't be so pessimistic. After all you've been whining that Mulder isn't talking at the moment. Send Mockery that as an apology. It'll probably kick start Mulder into telling you some more..."

"OK, it might. But do you _really_ think Mock will buy it as an excuse for not doing the Mary Sue thing?"

He looked at me silently for a few moments, then shrugged.

"Probably not, but what other hope do you have? Unless of course you have a real burning desire to write a bad het fic Mary Sue piece and somehow I don't think you're creatively quite up to that at the moment. Too many drugs rushing around your system. Oh and another thing. I'd suggest grovelling. Lot and lots of grovelling. To your list sibs, and most especially to Mockery. Never goes amiss... listen to the voice of experience here, a good grovel can stand you..."

I took a swipe at him and watched as my arm passed straight through his body. Well it was worth a try.

He straightened up and headed towards the door.

"Gee thanks, Alex."

I love talking to a retreating back.

"Look, promise me one thing OK? If I crash and burn on this you'll come back for a chat. You see I have this feeling that you have so many more interesting stories to tell than Mulder."

He turned around, framed once again against the hallway where he'd first appeared. A sly smile crept over his face and he winked wickedly.

"Maybe."

Damn. 

Why don't I ever get a muse that sticks around long enough to be of some help.

end

* * *

_(Reference: the sentence about the Mary Sue character's voice is not mine. It is lifted (and marginally altered to suit my purposes) from Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, published by Corgi Books ISBN 0-552-13703-0. If you haven't yet read this masterpiece of mirth get thee to a bookshop and purchase it immediately. I challenge you not to be amused)._

* * *

_  
_

Rating: Are you kidding?   
Pairing: Um.......   
Archive: Just let me know first, please?   
Feedback: Always welcome, positive, negative, whatever [email removed]   
Website: Well my HTLJ related fic can be found at Barb and Marti's site— [http://freespace.virgin.net/susan.gamble/Mainpage.html"](http://freespace.virgin.net/susan.gamble/Mainpage.html)   
The X-files stuff doesn't have a home yet, but that could be because none of it has made the list yet....   
Spoilers: Definitely none.   
Disclaimers: Not mine, although you can always hope..... Not beta'd. You think I'd willingly inflict this on some poor beta? All mistakes are mine and should be hunted down and killed.   
Summary: See above. Ramblings of a flu ridden mind attempting Mary Sue fic for Mockery's January challenge. Apologies in advance. Sorry Mock, it's all I could come up with at short notice! Grovel, grovel..... Alex made me do it :o)   
---


End file.
